Behind the Scenes
by Nyah
Summary: The story of the weekend that happened when Wilson wasn't looking.... Follows Better Check the Date on that Diagnosis
1. Devil in the Details

**Summary**: "Cameron, I've got something _special_ for you to do. Please try not to scream with girlish delight." Just what went on the weekend House and Cameron pranked Wilson?

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I claim no rights to or affiliation with the Fox TV show House:MD. And I thank the powers that be that this sort of fiction falls into the grey area of copyright infringement since I find it so damned enjoyable.

**Author's Note**: This is the promised companion to "Better Check the date on that Diagnosis" – conveniently available via my profile. Life will be much easier for you as a reader if you read that one first. There are two more parts to go to this little story, it was much longer in telling than "Diagnosis." Please let me know if I'm letting anyone get out of character. Reviews greatly appreciated, especially constructive criticism. Thanks.

**Behind the Scenes: Devil in the Details**

**Monday, March 27, 2006, 2pm**

"Foreman, Chase- find me that butt. CoCo's preferably," House clarified, "but I'll settle for the cigar. Cameron, I've got something _special_ for you to do. Please try not to scream with girlish delight. Or if you do make sure it's loud enough for someone to hear, the rumor mill has been so _quiet_ lately." Chase and Foreman left after rolling their eyes and scowling enough to be sure House knew they were not happy with his instructions.

Cameron remained seated, memorializing her coworkers' scowls in case her boss forgot what they looked like. "The fact that one of my X chromosomes isn't a stunted mutant doesn't mean I can't do anything but run labs and take histories."

_That was an impressive display of the use of double negatives. _"Hey, I didn't make the rules for the He-Man-Woman-Hater's-Club." House waggled his fingers at Cameron from under his chin. "But if you're a good girl I might teach you the super secret sign." Cameron looked like she was about to protest again so House cut her off. "I know you were just chomping at the bit to go down to a strip club and dig through the trash for a cigar butt, but I didn't want you to go and quit again when the nice ladies at Peaches and Cream offered you a better salary." House made his way over to the slightly open door of his office and shut it, scanning the hallway for familiar faces. "Don't look so surprised Dr. Cameron." He had his back to her but he could guess at her expression. Wide eyes. Open mouth. "Peaches and Cream is a classy place- the type the honorable judge M. K. Tiptin would-" House turned and Cameron's expression wasn't surprised in the least.

"I know what it is. How do think I paid my way through college? See I would have been just the person to send."

"You're kidding." He was fairly certain that she was. "You went to school in Illinois," he challenged.

Her face remained unchanged and an image of a scantily clad Cameron and a pole flashed into his mind. _Brain disengaging_. Then her mouth split into a smile. "Why Dr. House," she said, "you actually _read _my application. Shocking. Now what am I supposed to be doing while Chase and Foreman are getting their lap dances?"

House was wearing the expression he'd been picturing on Cameron a moment ago. "I've completely forgotten." He said. She laughed like he was kidding. "Oh, you're laughing- I'm not laughing." He shook his head. "Right. Got any big plans this weekend, Dr. Cameron?"

A year ago her jaw would have hit the table. Now she just looked at him steadily. There was a long silence. House raised his eyebrows, pressing the question. "Oh," she said, "you wanted an answer, not just a reaction?"

"Yes." _Oh, I love it when they start to think they've got me figured out. _

"No."

"_No_? No what? No plans, or are you being defiant."

Cameron sighed like the idea of playing such petty games tired her. "No plans."

"Excellent." House grinned and twirled his cane in his hand. _Just you wait Jimmy Wilson._ "Because _I plan _on using you."

**Tuesday 8 am**

Cameron was the first to arrive at the Diagnostics Department Tuesday morning, as always. She unlocked the door and wondered absently if House even had a key. She pushed the door open. There was a dim light in the room. Something moved. Cameron jumped and one hand went to her heart. "Dr. House! You scared me!" He was sitting there at his desk, washed in the blue light of his computer monitor. She yanked her jacket off, her heart was still beating too quickly. "Someone's going to get suspicious with you coming in early."

"When better to meet for our secret trysts?" she was shaking her head. "I've got it all planned out Grasshopper, watch and learn."

She got the SNL reference. He didn't think she would but she did. House handed her a sheet of paper with a list printed on it. It read:

S.A. Satan

Monday

Sacrifice pager

Tuesday

Make the coffee

Wednesday

Say something mean to someone

Avoid Wilson

Thursday

Avoid Wilson some more

Wear something hot

Pretend like you're trying hard not to moon over me

Friday

Lock keys in car

Get someone to call as locksmith (7 pm)

Answer phone on cue

BE READY TO GO AT 7:30

Saturday

Go home and don't get too comfortable

Sunday

Figure out something entertaining

"Some of those should come easy for you," House said helpfully, "like pretending you're trying not to moon over me. You're _great _at that."

Cameron ignored the comment. "What is this?" She poked her finger at the heading, "'S.A. _Satan_?"

"That's your codename. Duh." House said, "Secret Agent Satan."

She snatched the sheet of paper House was holding. It was _his_ list as she suspected. She scanned it quickly. "Why do you get to be James Bond and I'm Satan?"

"Because the devil should be a woman," he said as if it were a matter of practicality, "and if anyone finds it they'll have no idea you're involved. They'll just think it's Stacy's 'to-do' list."

Cameron had to keep herself from wincing at the mention of Stacy's name. She wasn't really jealous- not anymore. She really had gotten over House. Not because he told her to or because he had managed to convince her that he wasn't worth the effort. In fact, she had held onto her feelings when they first started to fade just to prove him wrong.

She had begun to let go when Stacy showed up and begun to get over him a few weeks later when her oldest brother called on the anniversary of her husband's death. She had told Kevin about House. "Stop punishing yourself Allison," her brother had said. "I know you decided you'd rather go to hell than believe in the whole God thing but there's no reason to start your laps in the burning lake of sulfur now. I'm sure Hell will be waiting for you when you get there."

That was just like Kevin- blunt and to the point even if it was the day her husband died. He reminded her of House that way. But, speaking of House- and _Stacy- _maybe that was why Cameron still resented the woman. She still liked House well enough- when she didn't hate him for being an ass- and Stacy had hurt him even worse by walking back into his life. She could safely resent Stacy for that, for hurting her _friend_- or whatever he was.

"Misdirection?" Cameron asked and gave House a mischievous smile. "Well then we should really cover your tracks better." She picked up a pencil and scratched through '007' and wrote a new name in its place in big, capital letters. She handed the list back to House.

"Prince Charming?" He grabbed the pencil from her hand and began erasing. "Good thinking," he rewrote a letter, "but that girly 'G' would have given you away."

**Friday 7 pm**

It was a warm night for the end of March. Heat lightning crackled through the darkened sky as House sped through Cameron's neighborhood in his Corvette. He thumbed his phone, searching for Cameron's home number that he had programmed in before leaving the house. Her machine answered after only two rings, that was good, it probably meant someone else had already left a message and hopefully that message was from the "locksmith." The automated voice finished speaking and the machine beeped. "Cameron. Pick up your phone," House said, "or I will leave you stranded in your own comfortable home to miss an incredibly boring party. And that would be too nice." He parked his car. How long was she going to let him go on? "You'd be cramping my sty-"

"House?" She finally cut in. There was a pause. "Okay the machine cut off," she said. "Are you on your way over?"

"No." He rapped on her door. "Are you ready?"

Cameron opened the door by way of response. "Ready."

"Good timing." House said, holding the door open for her.

"I heard you shut the car door over the phone," Cameron smiled, "the devil's in the details."

"Bravo, Secret Agent Satan."

"I just hope the boys don't pick up on it." Cameron said. "And I hope that they don't realize that a woman who keeps two spare house keys probably has a spare car key."

House smiled briefly, thinking of Foreman and Chase going over all the details he and Cameron had set up like a medical case. "I am fully confident in their incompetence. I mean Foreman's a bit of a risk with all those ghetto smarts of his. If I was pretending to woo him and you and Chase were playing Holmes and Watson we'd be solid."

"Hey!" Cameron punched his arm.

"You _hit_ me!" House rubbed his arm like she had done damage and tried not to laugh. It had been a solid enough hit but she had such little girl fists. "Since when do you hit? You never hit before!"

"Au contraire, I've always hit. I have brothers. But I liked you before _and_ we were at work. It's not very professional to assault your boss," she explained.

House considered the stairs a moment before punching the button to the elevator. "Next time you decide to abuse a cripple," he said, "do him a favor and hit on the side he doesn't need for walking."

"Waa, waa," Cameron mocked as she stepped into the elevator, "what was I thinking trying to date you, I should have tried adopting you."

"Yeah. Nice going. And now the humane society says they're going to put me down next week and it's all your fault."

The last time Cameron had ridden in his car they had both been all dressed up. She had that fragile, hopeful look in her eyes that he almost missed in the midst of all his wishing to be anywhere else. This time things were different. The top was down and the night was quiet. They both wore relaxed leather jackets, jeans and t-shirts. "I feel like I'm the winner of the look-a-like contest." Cameron commented, obviously she was riding his brain wave. "Foreman would be devastated."

"Congratulations Dr. Cameron but no cane, no cash. You'll have to settle with the consolation prize- two tickets for a movie opening at the Ford theater tonight."

There was no gasp of delight from the passenger's seat. If Cameron reacted at all he couldn't tell in the dark. "You win in the shoe department too," she said, "nice Chuck's. I lived in those in high school."

House looked down at his worn in Converse high tops. "Me too." Cameron's legs were crossed so that her right foot was in view. Her foot was clad in something dark and somewhat fuzzy. "Are you wearing slippers? I mean I know we skipped out on the black tie thing…."

"Oh relax they're outer sleepwear, rubber soles," she assured him. "Besides, I didn't know we were actually going anywhere. I had to do career gymnastics to get dinner out of you- didn't really see a movie coming."

"But this is _V for Vendetta_! I would have taken Vogler," House said, "but then he'd probably buy the theater and fire the hot popcorn girl just because she always forgets whether you wanted butter or not and can't remember which bag is the medium. It's not her fault, all that hot and a brain can't go together. God just isn't that nice, it says so in the Bible."

"So you're a believer now?" The question was clearly rhetorical. "Can we stop and go ice skating on Hell after the movie?"

"No, you know the old bastard almost had me until you came along. Beauty and brains, clearly He's trying to tell me He doesn't exist. That or you're a pod person." House turned the radio on. "I'm not sure which one would be more interesting, a pod person subordinate or messages from a non-existent deity."

Cameron smiled and turned her face into the wind. Maybe she had realized that they were having a fairly normal conversation. The top was down and her long red hair blew about gloriously for a minute before she tied it back. "I like this song." She said absently and sang quietly along. The wind brought the notes to House's ears. _In tune but nothing special. _He smiled and turned the volume up for her.

**Friday 10:30 pm**

"Did you run into someone you know in there?" House was waiting for her just outside the doors to the Ford. "Or were the leather couches too comfortable to pass up?"

Cameron ignored his male superstition over feminine bathroom rituals and held up a brown paper bag. "Too slim to be food," House guessed, "please tell me the Ford sells lingerie now."

"Nope." She held up her prize, a copy of the 'V for Vendetta' comic book that the theater _was_ selling.

"So I guess you liked the movie."

"Very much." She looked at the cover of the book. "And this is my first comic book so I can finally get my official Geek Club membership card."

"Uh-uh," House said in perfect deadpan, "that's a _graphic novel _not a comic book. You're still barred from the club until you get the terminology down. I'm on the board of the Geek Club."

"Devastation." Cameron said, being dramatic against his mock seriousness. "Do you accept bribes?"

"Dr. Cameron!" He limped off toward to the parking lot like he was shocked at her behavior. Cameron followed, laughing. "I am a Board certified medical professional. I cannot be bought! But I can be rented for the weekend."

They reached his car. House unlocked her door first since the 60s 'vette didn't come with power locks. He even opened the door for her, which was a testament to his good mood. Cameron got in and reached across, unlocking House's door and pushing it open. She had grown up with three brothers who learned from their father that they damn well better treat women like ladies and a mother that taught her that she sure as hell better show appreciation for good manners. "I already rented you for the weekend. Or did you think that me devoting me my weekend to your prank wasn't going to cost you?"

They drove for ten minutes with Def Leopard cranked up on the stereo loud enough that any conversation would have to be shouted. Then House pulled into an ice cream shop called "Johnny's Curb Service."

Cameron was just about to comment on the enormous parking lot when she realized it was packed with beautifully restored old cars displayed in an impromptu auto show. She was climbing out of the car when House flashed the headlights and told her to stay put. "What's your favorite ice cream flavor?" he asked.

"Strawberry."

"It would be," he replied. "So you didn't know what monster trucks were but you're an action movie girl?"

It took Cameron a minute to realize that House was actually initiating a conversation. Before she could answer a waitress walked right up to the driver's side window. "What can I get you?"

"A strawberry and a chocolate ice cream soda both with vanilla ice cream."

The waitress smiled. "At least _somebody_ knows that if you come here you have to get ice cream soda."

The waitress walked away and House said, "Her mother was a waitress here when I was a kid."

Cameron didn't know if he was just commenting or deliberating reminding her that her had twenty years on her. So she answered his earlier question. "Action's fine," she said, "but I've always loved comic book movies- the ones that aren't really terrible anyway. I've got three brothers," she explained, 'and they loved Superman, and Spiderman and the X-Men and all that. And they always would talk about them with their friends and I so I kind of know all the stories but only second hand because my mother wouldn't let me have 'boy things.'"

"You were that girl who was mad every time mommy got her a new doll." House smiled, just barely but his blue eyes were bright in the light of all the headlights and Cameron looked away so she wouldn't blush.

_Stop being ridiculous. You can be friends with men. You've done it before and this one's finally making an effort now that you stopped acting like a grammar school girl with a crush. _"Yeah," she replied, "I dressed up like Wonder Woman for Halloween when all my friends were Dorothy and Snow White."

House whistled at this and Cameron mentally noted that his habit of reminding her that he was too old for her and then commenting on how attractive she was, was extremely annoying. Their waitress showed up again, this time bearing a tray with their ice cream sodas and a frosted mug of root beer with two straws. "Compliments of the owner, Dr. House," the waitress said. House looked toward the shop, a dignified looking older woman waved from behind the windows.

"I'm glad your mom held onto the place," House said, and raised his hand to the woman in the shop in reply. He accepted the drinks from her tray and handed Cameron her Strawberry ice cream soda.

Cameron opened her door and stepped out of the car. House raised his eyebrows in a question. "I don't trust you with ice cream in that car," she said and was sure that if she hadn't gotten out she would have been told to get out. She took House's soda and the root beer from him over the top of the car, holding both sodas in one hand by the glasses' stems.

"And the truth comes out," House had noticed her glassware juggling and said triumphantly as he maneuvered his cane and stepped of the car, "you waited tables in college."

"You caught me," Cameron admitted, "the club was slow on week nights, had to make up the difference." House scowled, probably at the perfectly straight face she so proudly kept. They both leaned on the hood of his car and Cameron asked, "So how do I eat this exactly?"

"Use the spoon to get ice cream and soda at the same time. Straw's for when it's all melted at the bottom." Cameron's first attempt was mostly rather bitter strawberry soda water. She must have made a face. "It's an acquired taste," House said.

House finished his soda very quickly. Cameron thought he might have inhaled it when she wasn't looking. Then he was free to check out the old cars while holding the root beer mug. Cameron followed but soon passed him up, more because he seemed to actually know what he was looking at and stopped to admire the exposed engines than because he walked with a cane. She doubled back now and then for a sip of root beer which House held for her since both her hands were occupied by the soda and handing the drink to her would mean he'd have to take his attention from the cars. "This is fantastic," Cameron said, nodding her head at the mug of creamy root beer.

"It's homemade," House said distractedly while he leaned over something that was all polished chrome and engine parts.

Cameron walked leisurely through the parking lot that smelled of frying oil and ice cream. There was a whole range of people there for the show from elderly couples with their finned convertibles to young kids with souped upped sports cars. She drew a mouthful of soda through her straw and smiled, it had gotten quite good.

She stopped to look at one of the finned convertibles. It was a pale lemon color with a creamy leather interior. She circled it slowly and stopped on the passenger's side to peer into its exposed innards. When she looked up she saw House through the canopy of the popped hood. A few months ago this would have been so frustrating. She'd had a great time tonight, like she had at the monster truck rally. And she was sure House had too. He was a hard read except when he was genuinely having fun, then he was like a little boy, getting excited about explosions and shiny machines and showing off _his_ car show.

He caught her eye and smiled a real smile for the second time that night and Cameron's breath caught in her throat just a little. "Cool, huh?" He said.

Of course, things were only unbearably awkward when she forced him out of his element, making him go on a date and the like. She liked to think she had grown up some since then.

**To Be Continued in part 2: "…Or Something"**


	2. Or Something

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own House, nor do I own Empire Records nor 'V for Vendetta'

**Spoiler Warning: **Anything up until the current episode of House is fair game. Also bits of 'V' are hinted at.

**Author's Note: **Here it is, part two! Thanks to blackcherrys, silver-screen-953, jenloveshouse, drama-freak-cism, kaiselin, Nikelodean, Mione's Phantom, AtreidesHair, ellipsis…ellipsis, Sadina Saphrite, and SimpleNClean92 for your kind words on part one. Special thanks to AtreidesHair who also put up with 'Pyrrhic Victories' in the time between parts one and two. So without further ado…

**Behind the Scenes: …Or Something**

**Saturday 12:00 am**

They wandered around the lot of Johnny's until midnight when House's cell began to ring. House and Cameron grinned together when Wilson's name appeared on the display. "That's our cue. Let's blow this popsicle stand."

Such a classic line in such a classic place. Cameron smiled. "You know," she said, "every time that line's used in a movie it's right before the heroes go off to some exotic location for mindless sex."

This was very likely false but if House had been drinking his root beer he would have choked. _She has to stop doing that. Someone's going to lose an eye. _"There's no talking to you," he said. "My townhouse is not exotic. No comment on the sex part. But you wouldn't want to go 0 for 2, would you?"

They got to his townhouse and, thankfully, there was no sign of Wilson. House had planned to be back before Jimmy started calling but the Friday night car show always sucked him in and Cameron had proved to be surprisingly pleasant company. She just shuffled around in those ridiculous slippers and left him alone to look at the cars.

Now they needed to get _in_ and _out_ of the way- Wilson could be home any minute. House put his keys on the table along with the ticket stubs he'd kept. Cameron was rooting around his fridge. She came up with two bottles of Mike's, popped the caps and poured them into glasses. "You want one of these?" she called. House made a face. "More for me," she said. "Scotch on the rocks right?"

"Yep." House said and hung up his coat and Cameron's. Since House never hung up his coat that would be another little hint to the identity of his "guest." Cameron had found the scotch and two tumblers. She put ice in one and filled it with the amber liquor, adding just a splash to the other and running a handful of ice cubes under the faucet before putting them in the second glass. She put the empty bottles and tumbler of watery scotch with its melting ice on the coffee table.

House watched her work, amused. "Devil's in the details," she reminded him.

"That she is," House agreed and wondered if she had one of those headbands with the horns on it and if she owned and what she'd look like in a red dress. He picked up the three full glasses that Cameron's bottles of Mike's had produced. "Bedroom's this way," he said, "better hurry up or we won't have time for a quickie before Dad gets home."

Cameron surveyed the living room one more time just in case any detail had escaped her. _Who does _that_ remind me of? _Then she grabbed a little black knapsack she'd taken from the car and the full tumbler of scotch and followed House to his bedroom. She tossed her bag on the lazy boy.

House saw an obvious flaw in the charade. "How could I forget Steve!" He said like Armageddon itself was occurring and hoisted the rat and his cage from its place in the corner of the room. "You know the rule," he told the rodent, "no public shows. If I get lucky, you're gone."

"You talk to your rat?" Cameron asked, as if the conversation itself was more disturbing than the content.

"Yes!" House called back. "I bet you know at least one woman who talks to her cat and you never faulted _her_ for it."

"But that's a cat," her voice sounded farther away, she was probably in the bathroom, "_Steve _is a _rat_."

House set the rat in question down in plain sight in the living room and searched the fridge for munchies- this could be a long night. "That's _rodentism_," House yelled so that she could hear him over the now running water, "I'm sure I'll be able to fire you for that by 2010!"

He found the taco dip Wilson had made earlier that day and a bag of tortilla chips in a cabinet. "Nice." Then he thought he heard a car pull up outside so he limped quickly back to the bedroom. He shut the door to his room just as he heard the front door to the house opening.

"House!" Wilson called and the door slammed shut.

_Oh he's curious, pissed but curious! _"Busy!" House yelled and punched up the volume on the remote to his stereo. As the bass picked up Cameron gave a well-timed giggle from the bathroom. When House turned from the stereo her head was peeking out from the narrowly opened bathroom door. She said something that he couldn't hear over the stereo. House approached the bathroom and Cameron drew the door further closed, threatening to crack her own jaw in the process. "What?" He asked as quietly as was possible with the stereo blaring. It was a good thing the couple that lived next door to the one side was in Hawaii and the woman on the other was deaf.

Hair, dark and damp, clung to her face. "I said I didn't bring a towel."

_How does a woman who thinks to melt ice forget a towel? _"Towel's are out there." He jerked his head toward the living room. "So's Wilson. Use mine. Or the bathmat if you prefer."

"Ok." Cameron shut the door and House rooted through her bag for the comic book she bought rather than thinking about her following his suggestion. He was starting to regret how pleasant the evening had been. Perhaps he should have declared it a date then it could have been sufficiently painful for both of them and he could be thinking about how to tell her to jump out his window and walk home instead of thinking about her using his towel.

**Saturday 1 am**

When Cameron came out of the bathroom around 1 am House was on his bed, still in his jeans and t-shirt, laying on his stomach like a little boy and reading her comic book. "Hey! You can't read that. I haven't read it yet!" House didn't respond, either because he couldn't hear her over the stereo or because he was ignoring her. Probably the latter.

She climbed up on the bed next to him. "I'm not really reading it," he claimed, "I just flipped to the middle. So it doesn't count." He relinquished the book to her and rolled over, climbing out of the bed. He took his turn in the bathroom.

By the time he'd finished Cameron was halfway through the first chapter. She thought he'd turn on his TV now and tell her to move to the leather armchair. Instead, he climbed right back on the bed and complained that he'd missed the beginning of the story. So Cameron flipped back a few pages and let him catch up and wondered if he always slept in a t-shirt and sweat pants and if he was trying to scare her with proximity. They read like that for almost three hours with Cameron turning the pages when they were both finished and House shoving her with his shoulder now and then and telling her not to hog the book.

Around 2 am House produced taco dip and chips. "Don't get crumbs in my bed," he said and turned his attention back to V, grumbling that the Evey in the story didn't look anything like Natalie Portman.

During the three-hour read, both of them figured out the best method for drinking their respective alcohols while on their stomachs and one of them always called a stretch break when a chapter ended. Spines that were over ten-years-old did not tolerate being arched for long periods of time very well (not even for comic books). They mocked each other for their respective expressions of euphoria as joints popped and muscles relaxed. More than once Cameron almost made the obvious point that they'd both be more comfortable on their backs. But somehow that would seem too much like _cuddling_.

With anyone else this whole scenario would not have been anything to bat an eye at. Two people, fully clad, individually reading a _comic_ book and eating luke warm taco dip with a stereo blaring. But with House it was practically lovers reading sonnets to each other and feeding one another chocolates while something smooth and jazzy played softly in the background. Cameron tried not to think about that and told her vertebrae to shut up. "Did you fill your page turning quota for the year?" House asked, breaking into her thoughts, or non-thoughts. Whatever.

Cameron turned the page and tried to bring the colored panels of the book back into focus. Her Mike's was making her sleepy, that and the fact that it was pushing 4 am. The next frame in the comic was dark… no the whole _page_ was dark. _Are my eyes open? _Something jarred her shoulder. _No._ "Cameron, your face is interrupting my story."

Cameron groaned and picked her head up off the book, levering herself up on her elbows. "Selfish," she muttered.

"Hey," House said, "you could drool in your sleep. I might have just saved your very first comic book from a watery grave. Beside," he reasoned, "you were going to sleep through the end. I can pinch you if it helps."

"_Thanks_." She rubbed her eyes. "I'm awake." In the middle of the final chapter she started to nod off again and, as promised, House pinched her. "Ow!" She punched him in the arm.

"Shhh!" House cautioned, "If you wake Wilson up and he swoops in to rescue you it'll all be wasted. Reading isn't that scandalous." He seemed to consider the statement. "Unless you're an Afghan woman caught with Virginia Woolfe."

They finished the book. When she managed to convince House that she wasn't crying and that she was not _going_ to cry House said, "When I die that's how I want to go. Viking style. Dunk me in Nitroglycerin and wheel me into Cuddy's office on a gurney."

"'Damn the man,'" Cameron quoted and rolled away from House to her side. "'Save the Empire.'"

"Good movie." House said.

She was half asleep but she could feel him looking at her. "I'm not moving," she mumbled.

"Did I ask you to?" House said and clapped twice. The lights went out. He _would _have a Clapper. Cameron, well on her way to dreaming, began singing the Clapper theme in her head. "You are an amusing sleeper."

Cameron woke up at that. She must have been singing out loud. She turned to face him. "Sorry," she said and closed her eyes again.

"You know of all the times I pictured you here- it was never the pajama party scenario. This is the closest you've come to getting into my pants," House said, sounding like he was falling asleep too, "and you're going to sleep right through it."

Cameron fell asleep laughing.

_This _isn't_ romantic. Not even in a weird House kind of way. If it were romantic it would be awkward. _This was just she and House figuring out that when circumstances required, they could be friends… or something.

**Saturday 11am**

House woke up a full four hours later than he planned. They were supposed to be awake and gone before Wilson woke up. But then again he hadn't planned on being awake until four in the morning either but he wasn't one to leave things unfinished, especially comic books. Actually he had woken up at six and plenty of other times too but each time his body quickly decided he was wrong, it was not, in fact, time to get up. He had gotten unused to sleeping with someone else in his bed and Cameron apparently slept in the fetal position. Every time he moved he bumped into her and they both woke up. It wasn't his fault _really_, he just had to sleep on the inside corner of his pillow, that's all.

Anyway, Cameron was a good sport. She never complained. House only knew he'd woken her up because her limbs twitched as she fell back to sleep. Left arm twice then left leg then right leg to finish up. It was funny. House woke her up twice on purpose just to watch.

At ten he stayed awake. His leg, as a general rule, tolerated no more than six hours of sleep. He took his morning dose and gave it fifteen minutes to kick in, staring at the ceiling and listening to Cameron's breaths. The curve of her spine was against his ribs and he could feel every inhalation.

Soon he was comfortable. At least as comfortable as he ever got. So, of course, he got anxious and considered waking Cameron. If he'd had a wet dream about her last night he'd be fine. If he'd woken up with her ass pressed against him and had to dope himself up so he could go whack off in the bathroom that would have been just fine too. But this... The part of his brain that was still pleasantly sleepy had gotten together with the part that had soaked up the Vicodin and they were conspiring against him, whispering how this was nice and how he could get used to this.

She was wearing cotton pajama pants and one of those little tank tops that seemed innocent but by that very fact was actually very sexy. But she had commandeered his sheet and wrapped herself in it very thoroughly so there hadn't been any skin on skin contact to make him rethink their sleeping arrangement.

Plus, she didn't smell all Cameron-y for once. He breathed in. She actually smelled like something that made House feel very clean and relaxed. Then he realized that it was his shampoo that she smelled like and had to get up and go to the bathroom. At least that fixed the situation. This was how he was _supposed_ to be reacting. She was hot and she had been in his shower and slept in his bed.

When he got out of the shower (refusing to think about her using his towel) and dressed again, she was till asleep. There was no point in waking her up. Wilson would definitely be awake and until he left they were stuck in here. House sat in his chair and put one earphone of his iPod in, leaving the other out so he could listen for Wilson.

He didn't have to wait long. Wilson knocked on the door and House swore the sound was in stereo. Cameron muttered and rolled over. House levered himself up, cursing Wilson silently. If he'd learned anything last night it was that a tired Cameron lacked control over her vocal chords. If Wilson woke her up she might give herself away. And then, he reasoned, Wilson would know that _House_ knew that Wilson knew that Cameron was there and he would confront House about it. And that would ruin the plan. It was only logical.

Wilson knocked louder. House wrenched the door open just enough to let his friend see his infamous 'get the hell away' expression. "What?"

"Breakfast?" Wilson offered, baiting him, with the scent from the kitchen.

"Sleep." House answered and shut the door in his face.

**Saturday 2 pm**

"You're not prone to sea sickness, air sickness or any other motion related puking, are you?" House asked from behind her as they approached his motorcycle.

"No."

"Good. Stop walking." Cameron stopped at the sheer oddity of the request and felt a piece of cloth being wrapped around her temples and tied so she couldn't see except for an annoying sliver of nose and cheeks.

"What are you doing?"

"I know your teachers probably all told you that there are no dumb questions but they were wrong," House answered.

"Why are you blindfolding me?" she amended.

"Because I owe you a good weekend and I have no intention of accruing interest on this debt," House explained and lowered a visorless helmet over her head. "You get to wear the stupid looking one and get bugs in your teeth."

"Okay, so you don't want to spend any more time with me than is strictly necessary. No need to rub it in." Cameron was only half kidding but she was proud that she didn't sound like a pathetic child like she would have last year. "Did you have to bring the motorcycle?" She had been all too excited to ride it earlier when he brought her back to her apartment for a change of clothes. But now was a different story. And they couldn't take her car on the off chance that Foreman or Chase decided to check on her and found House's motorcycle in the parking lot but not Cameron's car. They might get suspicious. _Like House would ever let her drive him somewhere, given the option_.

"Scorned lovers do not storm off in Corvettes when they have motorcycles," House said and tightened the strap on her helmet.

"How very dramatic," Cameron snorted.

"Details, details, Agent Satan." He shook the helmet and her head by default, no doubt to "test" it. "Perfect."

"I think you must have been a thespian in another life," she said.

"How very clairvoyant of you, I played Puck once to pass a fine arts class, the stage loves me. I hope you were a lesbian in another life," he paused, "or in this one. How's _my_ ESP?"

She ignored him. He was mocking her but he was also being _nice_. "Wilson must have gotten you good."

House led her to the motorcycle and let her go to climb on himself. She heard his cane snap into place. "Yeah, that's a good story." He said sarcastically, "Sadly, you can't tell stories on motorcycles moving at high speeds. Get on and hold on."

She fumbled around, finding her seat and then wrapping her arms securely around House's waist, too scared and excited to be uncomfortable. "This cannot be safe."

"Riding on a motorcycle is not safe!" House yelled as the engine roared to life. "Suck it up. And smile so people don't think you're being kidnapped!"

She smiled, squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face against his shoulder. She didn't care if she was crossing some invisible line because all she could see if she cared to look was pavement going by much too quickly.


	3. Waxing Poetic

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I claim no rights to or affiliation with the Fox TV show House:MD. And I thank the powers that be that this sort of fiction falls into the grey area of copyright infringement since I find it so damned enjoyable.

**Author's Note: **A big thank you to everyone who's reviewed. And once again, an extra thank you to those of you who reviewed another of my tangent's _Ex Opere Operato._ I'd be especially grateful for feedback on this section because it was damned tricky and I don't feel like it's quite right. Thanks in advance.

**Behind the Scenes: _Waxing Poetic_**

**Saturday 3 pm**

When House removed her blindfold the first thing she saw a man with wings. She looked around puzzled. "This is a comic book convention."

"Yeah," House replied, "and it gets cold in the winter." She punched him, on his off-cane side this time. "Again with the punching!" House protested. "And I bruise like a _peach_."

"Suck it up." She found the man with the wings again. "That's Archangel right?"

"Angel, I think," House corrected, "since he's not all metal and evil looking. But I was never an X-Men guy."

"Who's your superhero then?"

"Sandman," House answered. "Closer to a _god_ than a hero really."

Cameron moved to check out the table nearest to her and House followed. "Never heard of him."

"Shame." House said, "Well now I know what to get you tickets to next time you quit." He must have noticed the wide grin on her face. "Now I just have to figure Foreman and Chase out and _you'll all be mine_."

"Rent tickets for Chase."

"Do you know everything about everyone?" House asked.

"I got nothin' for Foreman. But Chase and I drove to that tropical disease conference in the city last year," she explained and tried to bite back a smile at the memory. "Apparently he's seen Rent six times on Broadway. He played the entire soundtrack through three times while we were in the car and sang along." House looked like Christmas had come early. "I'm not kidding," Cameron said. "And if he missed a word he started the song over."

"He's going to kiss a man someday," House said.

"Probably you," Cameron replied.

"You picked up on his secret crush too?" House joked.

"You better be careful," Cameron said and spotted a familiar logo, "don't get high with him." It took House a moment to follow, her nonchalance about that particular incident was off-putting.

Eventually they saw the whole, rather large, convention and Cameron left with her copy of 'V' signed and the entire Sandman collection at House's constant and annoying urging. She spent a tidy two hundred dollars. She'd asked if she could just borrow his set and he looked like she'd asked him to go to church or admit he was wrong or something.

The ride back was less disconcerting since she was allowed to see. They stopped at a Quizno's and picked up subs then headed to Cameron's apartment. She'd retrieved her cell that afternoon and sent both Chase and Foreman a text message that said, "I'm fine. Thanks for looking out for me," so they wouldn't stake out her apartment and catch she and House- since he couldn't go back to his home before Monday.

"Why'd you do this?" Cameron asked, during a commercial break in the edited for television 'Fight Club' on TNT. "You didn't have to. I really wasn't going to do anything spectacular this weekend anyway."

"I admitted you to the Geek Club when you hadn't met the criteria. I was going to be voted off the board. But a convention clears my good name," House answered and Cameron laughed, knowing she wasn't going to get anything else out of him. But then he said, "You're different than when I hired you," and she thought maybe she'd been wrong and he was actually going to answer her. "You're still _nice_. Just not _as nice_. You've been less _fuzzy _in the past months. Sometimes you're down right _mean_. Where'd that come from? Was it the AIDS thing?"

"You took me to a comic convention because I was _mean_ to you?" She asked, pressing just a little, and reminding herself that House could not be expected to be tactful about something like a universally deadly virus. House did this sometimes- told her more than she expected, like some kind of internal dam of cynicism and sarcasm had cracked.

House rolled his eyes, clearly conveying that she was not being helpful-and-understanding Cameron like he'd expected. "I took you to the convention because I wanted to see which was the real Cameron. It was that or get you drunk."

So it was a character study like it always was with him. "And what did you find out Dr. House?" She knew her tone was chilly, she meant it to be.

"Neither of them is you," he surmised. "The real Cameron is somewhere between Bambi and Banshee and more fun than both." She supposed she should be grateful for the backhanded compliment. "You really do want to save lives and _souls_ too, even if you object to the term. You're genuinely interested in people. And you actually care about what they have to say. Probably too much. But sometimes you even put yourself first and sometimes you listen just so you can mess with people, keep them on their toes."

"Tell me more," Cameron said, "we didn't get to the neediness and the 'damaged' part." House must have realized he was on dangerous ground because he sat back on the couch and looked at her for a moment. Cautiousness, like he'd shown the last time he ripped into her character on their date, entered his eyes. "Come on," she urged, anger tying her stomach in knots, "if there's more to me than some fucked up messiah complex then why did I like you? Why did I even give a damn?" He hadn't been intentionally hurtful this time, almost the opposite. But she wasn't going to just roll over and let him decide how she should look at herself and think she'd take his half assed opinions as fact. She wasn't going to let him throw her into a tailspin again just because he didn't want to answer a question about himself.

She could see House clench his jaw and was ready for him to shout at her. But then he took a breath and looked at the ceiling for a moment, breathing out with resignation. "You liked me," he said, "because…" he seemed to be searching for something, "I thought it was because U.S.S. Cameron needed an anchor," he said. "Something that never let you get too far, too fast and that you could pull up out of the mud every now and then and polish it up a little. And when you lost it and got swept out to sea, it wouldn't be your fault."

"Nice metaphor."

"I'm not_ finished_. Gosh." He rolled his eyes. "But you- you just wanted someone who knew what the storms looked like and which ropes to pull I guess." He gestured to himself, "No delusions about calm seas and Caribbean cruises here," he said. "You're not as patient as you pretend to be. And not as hopeful either. But I'm less patient and less hopeful so you're golden by comparison. Besides," he said, "I'm funny."

"So first I'm some twisted little emotional masochist and now I'm a struggling mariner on the metaphorical ocean of life who wants to- what-use you for your _experience_?" She'd seen through his game. He wasn't going to win by suddenly waxing poetic and throwing her off balance.

House seemed not to notice. "I'm not talking about using anyone," it seemed to be real effort for him to speak in an even tone, "I'm talking about _companionship_. I'm told everybody's after that. Even I keep Wilson around. I mean that's partly for his own good because he'd have a really big head if I didn't keep him in his place."

She laughed as intentionally as he'd made the lame joke even as her throat burned and her heart ached at the memory of what it was like to have someone like that. Somewhere in the past three minutes they'd stopped talking about Cameron's former crush and transitioned into a veiled version of 'Are we _friends _now? And if not then what the hell's going on here?' "Is this your way of asking me to be your back up Wilson?"

"I don't know if you're really Wilson material," he said and she didn't know if she should expect a joke or a confession that he didn't want her to be just another Wilson. "I mean if you were Wilson you'd be crying on my shoulder right now. He let's his tears flow- like a man."

She laughed at the picture of Wilson, overcome with emotion, sobbing into House's sleeve that flashed through her mind. She laughed harder than that situation required. She laughed hysterically because what he said was true and she hated when he was right. She laughed until her stomach ached and she was crying and by the time her eyes began to get puffy she was laughing again.

One of those things- the laughing or the crying must have made House more uncomfortable than the unspoken 'What are we' hanging in the air because he said, "You were wrong that day when I gave that stunning diagnostics lecture." She didn't know what to say, so she'd say nothing. He went on, matter-of-factly, "I don't want to date you and I'd be a terrible friend because I don't love you. But I could."

Cameron didn't respond, she just remained where she was staring at his armpit with a laugh dying on her lips, waiting him to say how he'd never met a challenge he couldn't beat or something similar to take the seriousness out of the statement. She wasn't quite sure she was awake or if she wanted to be awake. "Come on Cameron," he implored, "I'm using _feeling _words. Women are supposed to respond to that."

She laughed, just a little at the way he drawled 'feeling' and said, "You're terrible at it."

"I've been told," he said. "So?"

"Just…" a sigh escaped Cameron's lips, "just let it alone for a while." He, never one to leave things unfinished, looked ready to argue. "Until tomorrow." She heard the hint of pleading in her own voice.

"Fine," he agreed grudgingly.

"I think I'm beginning to regret this prank."

They ordered Chinese food in and watched reruns of old TV shows. House wanted to watch the Simpsons during an episode of Full House Cameron had never seen. Both of them agreed that the world be a better place if there was a channel that showed 'The Price is Right' 24 hours a day.

"I always wanted to go on that show and play Plinko and then spin the dollar on the big wheel," Cameron confessed, "and then win both showcases."

"Everyone wants to play Plinko," House replied. "I actually know how to cook, I simply choose not to."

She was no longer caught off guard by his abrupt shifts in topic. "I judge how good a movie is based on the people I watch it with," Cameron offered.

"I'm not actually attracted to Angelina Jolie. The whole humanitarian thing killed it," House said. "Plus I have a man-crush on Brad Pitt and she stole him."

"I have a girl crush on Halle Berry," Cameron admitted. "I mean I like men but if Halle showed up at the door with wine and the keys to a room at the Plaza- I'd be there."

There was silence. "House?" He didn't respond. Maybe he'd gotten tired of the game. "_House?_"

"Shhh," he said, "don't speak. You're interrupting my fantasy. You may say 'Halle', if you want."

Cameron laughed and left her seat on the couch to get a book. When she came back House had found 'Sponge Bob Squarepants' and was happily engrossed. He started to tell her that reading would rot her mind but shut up when he saw that she was reading his precious _Sandman_.

When they decided to call it a night and Cameron finished up in the bathroom she found House in her bed. She gave him a look. "What?" He asked, "Am I on your side?" She continued her stare. "Bum leg!" He protested. "I didn't kick you out of my bed."

Cameron admitted defeat, deciding not to mention his lack of available couch and her perfectly open couch, turned off the lights and got in bed.

"I always wanted a dog when I was a kid," House said, continuing their spur-of-the-moment secrets game.

"I wanted a _friend_ when I was kid," Cameron countered.

"I was afraid I'd turn into my father." The '_and I did'_ went unspoken.

"I get attached to sick babies because I've always thought I'd be a bad mother and that would be my baby dying," Cameron whispered.

"Well, I know I'd be a bad father," House snorted. "I have a goddaughter though."

"You do?" Cameron thought she probably knew him better than anyone at the hospital except Wilson and _maybe_ Cuddy but this was news to her. "They let heathens be godparents?"

"Technically, I'm Catholic," House explained, "apparently, once you're in you can't get out. Anyway, yeah, she comes around sometimes in the summer, thinks I _owe_ her or something since I held her down while a priest tried to drown her."

"You could always write to the Pope and cordially ask to be excommunicated." Cameron laughed before getting serious again. "You were right about the ship thing," she said quietly.

"'Were right'? I still _am_ right."

They were both quiet, Cameron pondering the implications of everything that had been said and House… maybe he was sleeping.

Nope. "Allison?" House sounded serious and hopeful, "let's talk more about Halle."

"Goodnight House."

**To be continued in "Deus Ex Machina"**


	4. MacGyvering It

**Author's Note: **Thanks so very, very much to everyone who read and especially to you who reviewed. Special thanks to **Gruffalo84** for the constructive criticism. And **Kristen**, I agree totally- and I plan on addressing that actually, probably not in this story though (I hit on it a bit in Ex Opere). Anyway, this is a short little interlude before the next chapter which will be the end. Feedback cherished!

**MacGyvering It**

**Sunday 7 am**

How much could you really know about a person if you'd never seen her bathroom? Everything in Cameron's bathroom was clean but it had a lot of _stuff _in it.

House slid the door of Cameron's medicine cabinet open. Tooth paste, toothbrush, several incarnations of aspirin and its descendents, Q-Tips, makeup remover… girly stuff. Under the sink he found cleaning products, tampons and probably every bottle of shower gel and bubble bath she had ever been given. There were lotions and soaps on the sink and a few shampoo varieties in the shower.

He half expected to see a few prescription bottles left over from her husband but anything of that nature was absent. Grabbing a Discover magazine and the latest issue of Cosmo from a basket on the floor, House exited the small bathroom that adjoined Cameron's bedroom.

She had been sound asleep when he woke up at 6:30 but she wasn't in the bed or the room any longer. House, caneless, hobbled over to his gym bag and retrieved a clean set of clothes. With his back to the door, he'd just unfastened his towel when said door swung open. "Oh! Sorry!" Cameron had shut the door again before he'd even thought to turn or reply.

House thought about what she must have been like the first time she'd given a male patient a physical. "Is that how you got Chase too?" He called through the door, "Snuck up on him?"

When he was dressed he found Cameron in the kitchen reading the newspaper. She briefly looked up and adjusted her glasses before blushing and looking back at her paper. "Sorry," she said again, "I'm not used to knocking on my own bedroom door."

"Cameron," he pushed her fort of newspaper down, "you walked in on me in a towel. You didn't walk in on me playing grab-ass with Wilson."

She blushed more before smirking slightly. "Is that an admission?"

"Touche." He blinked in the new sunlight coming through the windows. "Why are you awake at seven on a Sunday?"

She stood up and moved toward the pantry. "I'm also not used to someone dropping heavy things in my shower early in the morning, what's your excuse?"

"I'm a cripple and your shower is small," House replied.

"That's not what I asked," Cameron pointed out. "Do you want breakfast?"

"Yes." House said and Cameron made for the pantry.

She spun around when House grabbed his keys from the jacket he'd hung over a chair the night before. "Where are you going? I'm no Wilson," she said, "but I do have _food_."

"I know," he replied, putting on his jacket and walking to the closet to find Cameron's. "I did recon on your fridge." House found her jacket and tossed it in her general direction. "And while I was _really _psyched for _Lite _Cottage Cheese- you're out of _diet _water and it just wouldn't be the same."

"I have-"

"None of your cereals have marshmallows."

She rolled her eyes and pulled her jacket on. "You should have put it on my _list_, 007."

**Sunday 8:30 am**

"I always underestimate the fantastic drawing power of God and Garden State diners." House said and proceeded to mutter about 'church people' as their waitress refilled his coffee cup for the third time. They had been waiting for a half an hour in addition to being seated at the bar. House was less than thrilled.

"You have no excuse either," Cameron told him, "you're _from_ New Jersey and we're in a diner. Who lives in New Jersey and doesn't know about the Sunday morning rush?"

A waitress walked by balancing no less than a dozen filled plates on her tray. "Cool." House said before climbing off his stool. "I'm going to pee," he looked back over his shoulder at her, "makes the food come faster."

The food did come while he was gone but that probably had less to do with his superstition than with the exorbitant amount of time he spent in the bathroom. Cameron had already tried his breakfast and made a significant dent in her own before he came back.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, House showed up and seizing two menus from the bar, threw up a makeshift barrier to his left and grabbed Cameron's wrist, pulling her behind it. She half expected him to say that someone had gone into cardiac arrest in the restroom and they had to hide 'lest they be recognized as doctors.' What he said was, "_You started without me?_" He looked accusingly at the bite of French toast that was speared on the fork she held in the wrist he'd grabbed. "Didn't your mother ever teach you that that's bad manners?"

"Didn't your mother ever teach you that a little raisin bran goes a long way?" She countered. "I almost called the coast guard." House looked at her blankly. "Because I thought you fell in," she explained lamely.

"Well," House was still holding the menus, "I was stuck on the bowl without a roll and the situation was getting dire but then I thought 'What would MacGyver do?'."

Cameron laughed. "Shhhhh!" House cautioned, but it was too late.

"_House_." Cameron had never heard another voice that could crack like a whip like that or make House react quite so violently. She'd have to get Cuddy to teach her.

"Dr. Cuddy!" House said with mock cheerfulness and lowered the menus. "What brings you to this particular diner this morning? Oh let me guess," he looked her up and down, "high heels, last night's dress- looks like a walk of shame Partypants, but this is a diner so that would make it a breakfast of shame…."

"Well _you've _obviously showered," Cuddy replied, looking at House's still damp hair. "But you're looking _especially_ unshaven," turned her too-bright smile to Cameron, "even for you. Well, _hello,_ Dr. Cameron." Cuddy's eyes flicked down and Cameron realized that House was still gripping her wrist and she was still holding that stupid fork.

House must have realized it at the same time because his eyes went from Cameron to the their hands to Cameron again and they said 'oh well' and he put the bite of French toast in his mouth. "Next time," he chewed, "IHOP."

"So what brings you here Dr. Cameron?" Cuddy said.

"Uh…." She felt herself blushing for the second time that day and, absurdly, heard her mother's voice telling her that it was unflattering when redheads blushed.

"Toilet paper emergency." House said and wrestled Cameron's fork from her hand and cut himself another bite of toast.

"You _called_ her to bring you toilet paper?" Cuddy's tone said she clearly did not believe him.

"That's just silly, Dr. Cuddy," House said, intentionally talking with his mouth full, "she ran out of toilet paper at her place and I _really_ had to go. The diner was closer than Wal-Mart but they don't give you a sticker when you walk in the door here. Oh well, can't have it all."

Cuddy's intense, I'm-your-boss's-boss stare fixed on Cameron and Cameron said, "There's a lacrosse game in a few hours. Hopkins at Princeton. My brother plays. Dr. House offered to explain the rules to me."

"How sweet." Cuddy said, looking at House again and Cameron felt distinctly like the kid at the grownups' table. "Well, enjoy your breakfast," Cuddy said, "and, Dr. Cameron, make sure he pays. You might as well get _something _out of the weekend."

When Cuddy was safely away in another section of the diner, Cameron let go of the breath she'd been holding. "I am really starting to regret this prank. Where did she come from?"

"Venus, I think. She has extremely acute tracking skills,. It's the only explanation."

"Did you see her when you went to the bathroom? Why didn't you warn me?"

"Relax," he said. "So we'll get one more person with my brilliant plan."

"She's your boss," she said.

"She kept me on when I single-handedly ran 100 million dollars out of town," House reminded her. "One-hundred million versus doing one of my subordinates," he pretended to weigh the two in his palms. "I think you lose. But don't let it get you down, Vogler had a few pounds on you but my money's on you in a fight. You look scrappy." He finished off the slice of toast he'd been working on. "Besides, Cuddy's been pulling for you since the beginning. She's thinks you'd be a _good influence_ on me or something."

Cameron laughed. "Yeah," House said, "I thought was kidding at first too-"

"No," Cameron cut in, still laughing, "Cuddy thinks you need to get laid."

"Well she is a Dean of Medicine. She's a very smart woman."


	5. Deus Ex Machina

**Author's Note: **This is it folks! The final proper chapter of Behind the Scenes and what a beast it was! Thanks to all who have read and reviewed. If you've been lurking or just saving up your comments for the end, please drop me a line, annoyance, praise, whatever, everything's very welcome. There's going to be a short epilogue to tie up a few loose ends- hopefully in the next few days as I'm about to leave the country for a few months. Again, feedback much appreciated. Thanks.

_Deus Ex Machina: _

_1. an improbable character or event used to resolve a plot_

_2. in ancient Greek and Roman theater, a god introduced to resolve a complicated plot_

**Another Note: **This whole story is a bit of literary joke really, it relates to the title of this chapter- special prize to the first one to get it. There's also a little joke in the previous chapter "…Or something" related to the actor that plays Wilson.

And now I've just become one of those writers that makes ridiculously long notes… and yet I'm still writing it… happy reading!

**Behind the Scenes: Deus Ex Machina**

**Sunday 4 pm**

"There were people in the stands- that much has changed." It was four in the afternoon when House and Cameron left Princeton's athletic complex. "Twenty years ago, most people didn't know what lacrosse was."

"I still didn't." Cameron admitted. "It looks painful."

House shrugged, remembering how his shoulders never got sore until a few hours after the last goal he'd scored. "So, do you research everyone you know or just your devilishly handsome bosses?"

"Excuse me?" They'd made it to the parking lot and House's motorcycle but he wanted to hear her answer so he put a restraining hand on her helmet so she couldn't put it on.

"Please." He rolled his eyes to put the focus on her mildly stalker-ish knowledge instead of on his interest in her interest. "You knew I played lacrosse. You know how I like my sandwiches. You knew my birthday. And I've heard you rattle off your little findings about my character to Foreman and Chase. Did you conduct interviews on everyone who's ever known me or is there a page on me at Wikipedia?"

She was probably regretting, now, that she'd thought to go to the game, that she'd thought to do something nice for him. And that was too bad. But if she was regretting it then maybe she'd never do something like this again. The whole afternoon had been like a bizarre meeting of two worlds. _Lacrosse, meet Cameron._ It had been his old life- when he was young and healthy and, well _less _jaded meeting, now when he was weathered and broken and miserable

It'd been like finding out that his new friends actually liked his old friends and maybe liked them better than they liked him. Well that metaphor didn't really work since both of those would be Wilson…. But he'd watched a lacrosse game- one of the most bittersweet activities he could possibly engage in- and Cameron had been there- one of the most infuriating idealists he'd ever met- and somehow the default feeling for the situation was _happy._ House just wasn't used to his default feeling being happy. He blamed Cameron. After all, lacrosse couldn't possibly be at fault.

But when House's metaphorical fit passed Cameron was smirking. "You're not the only one with astute powers of observation. You used to have a lacrosse ball," she said, "but it disappeared the same day one of the glass panes in the door to your office mysteriously shattered. Then you got the big tennis ball. Chase figured it was compensation. You know- old age, shrinkage-"

"Ok. Enough." He swiftly put her helmet over her head and though it was visorless it achieved the desired effect.

The sky as they drove was perfectly blue and the air was pleasant. So, naturally, after five minutes on the interstate House felt the first raindrops sting his neck. Minutes later the sky seemed to open up and they were pelted relentlessly with water. House felt Cameron hold on tighter and shrink behind his back.

At the next overpass, he pulled over and parked the bike on the shoulder. "Gotta wait it out." He told Cameron as he brushed water from the shoulders of his leather jacket.

They climbed the slopping slab of concrete that rose from the shoulder to eventually meet the bridge overhead and sat back where the passing cars wouldn't spray them with dirty rainwater. Lightening flashed across the sky and thunder followed on its heels. Cameron sighed, "I lo-"

"-love thunderstorms," House finished. "You would."

"I hate when you finish my sentences." She said.

"I hate when you're boring." He countered.

"That's why I hate when you finish my sentences!" She answered. "Don't cleverly tell me I'm boring you_- just tell me_."

"Well did I finish it correctly?"

"Yes," she said grudgingly. "Because I'm a _romantic_ and great stories start on dark and stormy nights. Because you never know what's going to happen in a thunderstorm and that should be scary but it's really kind of thrilling."

He could have told her that he already knew that about her but instead he said, "That's the thing about romantics. You go on about your feelings and your passion and then… go off chasing after _windmills _because you read about it in some book. And everyone's supposed to think that kind of delusion is admirable. Do you always rely on stories and ideals to tell you how to_… feel_?" He watched a tractor-trailer pass instead of looking at her.

"Yes," she said and for the first time that weekend, something like weakness crept into her voice. "I always did. When I was a kid and when no one would be my friend and when I married Luke and he died. And when I liked you too." She drew a breath and looked him in the eye, he had to give her that, she looked him in the eye. "I've always gone for the extremes in everything because- I guess- I always thought I'd come out _changed _and- I don't know, _heroic._"

"Like someone in a story."

"Yeah. And, you know, when Luke died, even _then_- it hurt but there was a part of me going 'so this is what grief _really_ feels like' and there was another part of me already in love with his best friend."

House couldn't quite keep a look of surprise from his face and seeing it, Cameron looked ashamed. "And that right there is why I finish your sentences," He said before she could cry or change the subject or combine the two and start ranting about the workings of the tear ducts. "I like to be able to predict you because eventually you go and say something like that and…. I always think there's a science to you. You're the constant. You're the idealist. The moral one. The _romantic._ But then you go and do something that doesn't fall into a category. Like falling for your dead husband's best friend." He tapped his cane on the concrete, thinking out loud, "I _can't_ predict you. You're not like Stacy." He didn't wonder if it was a mistake to say that because he didn't make mistakes, he did things to provoke reactions and if he was ever going to get a reaction out of Allison Cameron this was the way to do it.

"I don't know what to do with that," she said and her eyes bulged slightly in their sockets. "Am I supposed to find some kind of compliment in there?"

"You're not supposed to do any-"

"I mean, did you think I _was_?" Her eyes glanced wildly at his leg, "She- I could never-"

"She saved my life." He said, even though he would never say it to Stacy.

She was quiet a moment. "Like I said, I could never."

"That's not what I meant."

"But it's true," she didn't sound sad, "but I'd be good for you. Cuddy's a smart woman." She said, echoing his earlier joke, "And Freud aside- you like me." No blush, no undue emphasis in the word 'like,' it could be as innocent as either of them chose to make it.

Cameron was smiling to herself and House didn't feel much like lying right now so he just nodded. He'd meant to remind her of her promise to finish their earlier conversation about where they stood and all that jazz but, at this point, he could see that ending one of two ways. One, they would get honks from passersby, shouts to get a room, maybe a charge of public lewdness and the unique experience of concrete burn in sensitive places. Or, two, his ego would get a swift kick in the balls.

Instead House put his arm around her shoulder even though she wasn't shivering and she leaned into him a little even though she wasn't tired. It was probably as good a conclusion as they could have come to even if they'd talked until the sun went down. Anyone looking on could have taken them to be friends or lovers and would have known about as much as they did themselves.

A tractor-trailer passed by half on the shoulder and sent a curtain of dirty water high in the air. Cameron and House put up their arms to block it and shielded their faces. The action, of course, brought them into each other's personal space. Their eyes met and Cameron did that thing that women do when they know a guy wants to kiss them. "You have gravel on your face Cameron," he said, "I'm not going to kiss you." She turned away, wiping at her mouth. "Beside, that would make this whole prank thing a big lie and I'm not one to ruin my own fun. That's why I have patients. And Dr. Cuddy."

"Everybody lies," she reminded him.

"Using my own line against me. Alright Benedict Cameron, see if I ever finish your sentences again." As predicted she took a swing at him. "Ouch." He said. "I'm going to have to start going to the gym. Mobsters and angry husbands are one thing- but I can't be getting beat up by girls. It'll be blonde wombats next."

House pushed himself to his feet. "It's that or get a bigger cane." The rain had stopped.

Cameron remained sitting, looking up at him with those big blues set in a way that said she wasn't done talking. "Why can we get along just fine like this but whenever I tried before it all went to hell?" She was obviously frustrated.

"Because now you're not being the invincible Dr. Cameron, savior of the world. And you're secret identity is infinitely more interesting." He gave her his hand to pull her up. "I like thunderstorms too." He dropped her. "First one to the bike has to wear the stupid-looking helmet!"

**8 pm**

"That was good. I was hungry enough that tar would have been appetizing but…."

"Yeah," Cameron apologized, "sorry about the late dinner."

"It's alright. I just figured you were raising the chicken yourself." House leaned back from his plate.

Cameron stood and started clearing the remains of dinner from the table. It had been longer than she could remember since she'd had Sunday dinner, homemade, like she'd had every week when she was a kid.

_Whack. _House brought his cane down on the plates in her hand. "House!" Cameron said, doing her best Cuddy impression.

"_Mom." _House replied sarcastically.

"It's all _fun and games_ until someone loses an eye," Cameron said in compliance with the joke.

"Yeah," he said standing and taking the plates, "then it's a new game- _find the eyeball!_" He carried the plates, one-handed, over to the sink. "Cook doesn't clean," he announced. Not about to argue, Cameron excused herself for the bathroom.

When she returned to her kitchen, having retrieved one of the _Sandman_ novels from her bedroom House was not washing dishes. Instead he was standing at the open window that faced the parking lot, letting cold air and rain into the apartment. A loud blast from a truck's horn split the air. "You can take him!" House cheered.

Cameron hurried over to the window. The massive garbage truck that emptied the dumpster every week was in the parking lot. Presumably it was the truck that had produced the ear splitting noise. "Minivans's blocking the dumpster," House explained, "there's gonna be a _rumble!_"

The garbage truck, illuminated by a lamppost, was rocking back and forth and looked, absurdly, like a bull about to charge. "What is he hop-" Another horn blast form the truck drowned her words and House was practically jumping up and down. "What is he hoping to accomplish? Does he really think the owner's going to come running out and move his van?"

"He's just observing the rules of gentlemanly conduct of garbage truck warfare," House said, eyes still glued to the parking lot, "three warning blasts are required before any smashing."

"I must have missed that part at the monster truck rally."

The truck gave a third blast and House started shouting again. "Come on you can take him! You gave him three! Just pick him up and chuck him in the compactor, he'll fit!"

Cameron stretched out on her couch with _Sandman _but she didn't read much in the next ten minutes for laughing at House's continued encouragement of the enraged waste management vehicle. Eventually though, both House and the truck decided there was going to be no aggressive action and House returned to the sink.

Cameron delved back into her story and was quite content until House broke in, "So what's next on the agenda?"

"Me. Reading." Cameron replied, without looking up.

"Bored," House announced, "bored, bored, bored."

"If you're bored it's only because you're boring," she told him.

"Am _not_." He said obnoxiously.

When Cameron looked up his arms were wet to the elbows and he had a large soap bubble balanced on one hand and was working on another. The first one popped while he was blowing the second. "How'd you do that?"

"Elementary my dear Cameron." He said and put a soapy hand, up to the wrist, inside the bubble.

Cameron slowly made her way over to the kitchen, studying him. He had two bubbles now and was smashing them together, cheering them, much like he had the truck, until one burst. "Tough break Righty." He said.

"You're adorable." Cameron said, laughing quietly.

"I don't get that one a lot," he said, rolling his fingers through a bubble, "the working girls of Princeton aren't that cutesy. They go for 'ruggedly handsome' when they want tips."

She hated when he talked like that so she took another step and kissed him to shut him up. He didn't exactly kiss her back but he didn't push her away, maybe he would have if his hands weren't covered in soap, but still, he didn't.

When she pulled back he looked like a deer caught in headlights, a deer that was dripping soapsuds all over her floor. "Okay…."

"Okay," she said brightly, refusing to answer a question he didn't ask.

"Why'd you do that?" He said slowly.

"Because you talk too much for someone who's supposed to be a misanthrope," she told him. "And because I wanted to."

"Right." He passed the bubble between his hands with anxious energy.

"I thought you were going to wash the dishes." Said dishes were still stacked in the sink.

"I said the cook doesn't clean, it doesn't directly follow that the cripple cleans." Cameron snorted. "Wilson's maid will do them," House said.

Cameron grabbed the sponge, "Wilson's maid is not doing my dishes!"

"Suit yourself." House proceeded to blow bubbles that popped when they hit Cameron's face while she tried to fend him off and clean the dishes at the same time.

**9 pm**

"Sit up." House commanded and Cameron looked up at him from her reclined position on the sofa.

"Tombraider's on." She said, almost in defense.

"I told you about me and Angelina," he said in mock hurt, "do you have to rub it in?" Cameron, like Cameron would, looked remorseful, "Sit up." This time she complied and House sunk into the corner that the armrest made with the back of the couch. "Alright, come back," he said and tugged Cameron against his chest.

She leaned against him stiffly, with her comic book opened in her lap. "I thought we were reading," he said as innocently as possible. _She can dish it but she can't take it._

"This isn't the first one," she said quickly and started to stand.

House held her back by the arm. "I've already read them," he reminded her.

"So I'll get you the first one if you want to read them again." She tried to stand again but he didn't let her.

"I want to read _this _one."

"Okay," she said uncertainly and found her place again.

He didn't hold her, didn't touch more of her than the rather significant expanse of her back that leaned against him and the back of her head on his shoulder, and eventually she relaxed. And an hour later, despite the enthralling power of the Dream King, Cameron, judging by the twitching, was asleep.

He let her sleep for ten minutes before shaking her. "Wakey wake Dr. Cameron. If you sleep here your leg will be very unhappy. No wait, that's mine."

She blinked at him sleepily and he thought someone was going to kiss someone again. But she blinked one more time and said, "Can't ruin the prank." She picked the book up from where it had fallen into her lap. "I want to finish this chapter. Death is my favorite character."

"I would have thought Delirium."

They went to bed half an hour later. While Cameron was washing up House poked around her closet and found a freshly dry-cleaned black dress. _Short and strappy_. "Where you going to wear this to the benefit?" He asked when Cameron reemerged. She nodded. "I'm beginning to regret this prank," he muttered.

**Monday 8am **

At House's insistence they left later for work Monday morning than Cameron had ever left. When she had _not_ been high the night before anyway. When they pulled into the parking lot house said, "Ready for an Oscar-winning performance?"

"Yeah. I've always wanted an 8-inch tall, gold-plated, phallic symbol," she said.

"Me too," said House.

As planned, House headed straight for the Diagnostics Department. Cameron, instead of immediately following, rode the elevator to the top of the hospital. When the doors opened on the fourth floor, they revealed one Lisa Cuddy. "Dr. _Cameron_," said her boss's boss said and Cameron reflected that Cuddy's sugary sweet address was possibly more threatening than her whiplash reprimand.

"Dr. Cuddy." Cameron inclined her head in greeting.

Cuddy stepped into the elevator next to Cameron and though they both faced forward, Cameron could practically _feel_ the other woman smiling. "Pleasant weekend."

"It was fine." Cameron tried to stop the blush that was racing up her neck even though it would play right into_ the_ _prank_. "You?"

"Oh, yes." Cuddy said.

Cameron had never been so relieved as when the elevator doors opened again. She made up an excuse as to why she was getting off on the gynecology floor and only realized later that the move had probably added unnecessary fuel to the fire. She opened the door to the Diagnostics Department to find, as expected, four gossiping men.

"We're caught," House said to her, "Game's up. My mother's going to be so disappointed that I didn't invite her to the wedding."

Cameron only missed a beat in which she had to stifle a laugh at the expression on her coworkers' faces, "_Your _mother? Mine will disown me. For marrying you," she clarified, "not for neglecting to invite her."

"Nice." House said and looked pointedly at Foreman. "Mad props for that, boo." He said, changing the focus to watered down racism. "New patient today kids and she's related to someone famous!"

Cameron had fight to keep her expression neutral as Wilson practically stormed out. Of course House would want to draw this out for the rest of the day.

**4:30 pm**

"Wilson's head's about to explode," House told Cameron proudly, catching her along in the lab. "He needs a little Deus Ex Machina to make the world make sense again."

"Good thing you like playing God," she said.

"Good thing." House said and headed off to his office to wait for Wilson.

**Monday 5:30**

House's team plus Wilson had lingered outside of House's office for half an hour, laughing and presumably discussing the events of the weekend. House preferred to revel in his maniacal brilliance alone. He could gloat to Wilson later.

There was a light tapping of House's door. Cameron entered before he answered which was a good move on her part since he wouldn't have actually answered. "There should be a hospital record of the best April Fool's pranks."

"We'd top it." House put his magazine down and crossed his hands behind his head in satisfaction even as he mentally cursed the English language and words like 'we' that implied connection between the subjects. "You make a fine super secret agent Dr. Cameron."

"You're not too bad yourself." She pursed her lips, "So what did Wilson do to deserve that?"

"Long story."

"It is not. Or, if it was you would have had plenty of time to tell me over the weekend."

House's face broke into a compulsive grin. "Let's just say that getting him back and seeing that look on his face was worth sacrificing my weekend to you."

"It was a great look." Cameron and House were both smiling like four-year-olds. They exchanged expressions. _It was a great weekend._

He and Cameron had devoted a whole three days plus a week of planning to pranking Wilson. It had been fantastic joke but as Cameron held his eyes, House had the distinct impression that the joke was on them. "Good night Dr. House." Cameron said, "And you owe me a movie with fewer exploding things."

"Noted." He said, "Goodnight Cameron."

**End**


	6. Epilogue

**Author's Note: **End of the end. Thanks again for sticking around to read. Be kind and click that friendly little button at the end. Go on. Click it.

**Epilogue**

**Monday 6:40 pm**

It was before seven o'clock and Lisa Cuddy was leaving the office. That alone meant that today had been a good day. She had a sneaking suspicion that this was due primarily to unusually low confrontation rate with the doctor that was currently sitting outside her office. "What are you doing House?"

"Reading 'Ten Things Men Want to Say to Woman but Don't'." he didn't look up from his issue of _Cosmo_. "Huh, I've said _all_ of these…."

"Oh really? Is one of them 'I_ love_ you Dr. Cameron'?"

House turned the page and squinted. "No," he said, "I don't see that one here."

"Well I'll have to call _Cosmo-_ they're going to need to fire their editor." House was still not protesting so she was either completely off base or right on the mark. "Why are you reading _Cosmo _outside my office two hours after you should have left?"

"Word on the street is that the principle wanted to see me in her office about my PDA violation."

"Well you should have waited for me to send your homeroom teacher a note, Cuddy said. "This is my hospital House, I heard about your prank."

House nodded once. "Good." No grinning, no preening.

"But you already _knew_ that," she went on. "_You're_ here to make sure I _believe_ it was just a prank."

"Well as you keep reminding me you sign my paychecks and if you decide I'm violating the hospital's fraternization policy since I sign Cameron's checks _and_ had breakfast with her at a diner then you'll stop signing mine and I'll have to stop signing hers. Then she'd probably take me to the cleaners for sexually harassing her all those times- because let's face it, no one's as nice as she pretends to be- and then I'd have to turn Steve McQueen out to live on the street and no one wants that." House was acting like House and talking like House but the fact remained that House was sitting outside her office at quarter to seven at night.

"Nice logic, House. Now you just need to find a bull and get him to shit all over your excuses. Why are you reading _Cosmo _outside my office two hours after you should have left?"

"You already asked that." He said.

"It was rhetorical this time. You're reading drivel. You read drivel when you need to think _but_ you solved your case four hours ago- patient's on the rebound _and_ you got Stephen Fry's autograph out of her. You show up at my office when you want drugs or you want to talk because _you_ know _I_ know you better than anyone in this hospital does expect _Wilson-_ who you just pranked."

"Dr. Cuddy you should learn to quit when you're ahead," House said and stood up like he was going to leave, "you had it right the first time."

"Since when do you have to tell me when I'm right?" She wasn't done with him yet. "You think I might not believe this prank thing because I saw you at that diner with Cameron. I saw how you were acting." House was finally scowling. She was in. "Not that I needed to. I probably knew you had a thing for her before you did."

"Oh, like you-"

"_House,_" She hated being interrupted when she was figuring out a puzzle, "I introduced to you Stacy. You remember Stacy don't you?"

"I never did thank you for that did I?"

She ignored his attempt at a guilt trip. "I think I'm well enough acquainted with the mating rituals of Greg House. So, House, why _are_ you reading _Cosmo _outside my office two hours after you should have left?"

House's look clearly said that he did not appreciate her dramatic redundancy. "Because I've got a lot to _think_ about Dr. Cuddy," he said grudgingly and sat down again.

"Mhm," Cuddy practically hummed. "I'll leave the light on." She walked away but turned back before she got to the elevator. "One more question. Was all this because Wilson invented that patient four years ago and had you going crazy trying to diagnose him?"

"He faked an entire chart _and_ test results, he had the _nurses _in on it," House complained.

"Well if you'd actually see your patients…."

"Goodnight Dr. Cuddy."

When Cuddy got to her car she was still laughing to herself. She and Wilson should start billing him for therapy. But at least she wouldn't feel guilty covering for him this time if the board started asking questions.


End file.
